


We'll paint the world red and blue

by AntheaGunn



Series: I love you is always a quotation [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntheaGunn/pseuds/AntheaGunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you serious?” Lexa exclaims out loud during her usual post-canoodling mirror check.<br/>Clarke shuffles in bed, already feeling sleepy under the covers. “What?” she replies, confused, facing the other girl's back, which is shaking as she laughs.<br/>“You got paint inside my ear, Clarke. How did you even manage that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll paint the world red and blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> This is the first of a series of six stories, following Clarke and Lexa's relationship as they mature and build their lives.  
> I hope you like it.  
> As usual, reviews are very much appreciated.  
> Thanks to my betas Becky and Phoebe, you've been amazing.

Poi con secchi di vernice  
coloriamo tutti i muri,  
case, vicoli e palazzi,  
perché lei ama i colori...

 

Lexa loves that Clarke is an artist. 

Honest.

She loves that her girlfriend gets excited about the most ordinary things. Like the kaleidoscope of colors that the falling leaves create in the woods behind their houses, dragging Lexa out for long walks even though they're both absolutely exhausted after school and violin lessons - for Lexa- and soccer practice -for Clarke.  
(Despite her protests Lexa always ends up going, but she tells herself that's only because nine times out of ten their hikes end up with one of them flush against a tree and the other one on her knees.)

She also loves that during hot summer nights they spend hours laying in her backyard observing the constellations that shine in the sky, making up silly names for those they don't know.  
(Which, really, is all of them, even though Clarke maintains that the spoon constellation is real and tickles Lexa into submission every time she retorts that's not true.)

There's only one problem.  
Clarke's hands are constantly, invariably, covered in paint. 

Alright, so maybe it isn't such a huge problem, except that their parents don't know they are dating and that paint constantly, invariably, ends up all over Lexa's face and neck every time they make out.  
And, well, having to explain to her extremely homophobic, stuck up mother why there are baby blue splotches on her collarbone and under her ears is not exactly the kind of family time activity Lexa is looking forward to.  
Especially because, if they were to see them, it really wouldn't be very hard for her parents to determine whose hands that paint had come from.

She and Clarke have been neighbors since they were five years old. She remembers the morning Clarke and her family had moved in across the street as if it was yesterday. She remembers the red truck arriving while she was out playing in the garden, remembers the little girl who had jumped off of it and immediately, upon seeing Lexa, had crossed the street, bold and confident, to say hello.  
Lexa's response had been to take off running, overwhelmed by the other girl's outgoing nature, to hide inside her house.  
She had spent the rest of the day observing the new neighbors from the safety of the front room's window, until her father had told her that it wasn't polite to stare and had sent her up to her room.  
The very next day she had heard the doorbell ring and on the other side of the door she had found a smiling Abby and an equally smiling Clarke, who had asked her if she would like for them to play together.  
Lexa had nodded, shyly, and Clarke had extended her hand.  
Lexa had taken it and, well, you could say she never let go. 

But as lovely as her memories of little Clarke are, and as much as she adores her girlfriend, the problem remains.  
“Are you serious?” Lexa exclaims out loud during her usual post-canoodling mirror check.  
Clarke shuffles in bed, already feeling sleepy under the covers. “What?” she replies, confused, facing the other girl's back, which is shaking as she laughs.  
“You got paint inside my ear, Clarke. How did you even manage that?”  
“Well...” Clarke starts, “I think it was around the time you did that thing with your mouth, and I grabbed the back of your head and you started going down-”  
“It was a rhetorical question.”  
“It didn't sound like one.”  
“Yes it did. I know how the paint got in my ear. I was there with you, remember?”  
“Well, then why did you ask me?”  
“It was just-” Lexa starts, turning around, but she stops once she sees the Cheshire grin on the other girl's face. “You're terrible,” she proclaims instead.  
“Terrible is actually my middle name, did I ever tell you that?”  
“Yeah, well, homeless will become my middle name if my parents find out about us because you left paint smudges all over my face.”  
Clarke's expression immediately turns serious as she gets up from the bed, approaches her girlfriend and puts her arms around her, holding her close.  
Lexa buries her face in the soft skin of Clarke's neck, as the girl whispers a soft apology and promises that in the future she will pay more attention to remove all the paint from her hands before their meetings.  
Lexa immediately interrupts her. “No, I'm sorry love,” she starts, “It's not your fault. And you know that in any other circumstance I wouldn't wait a second to go to my parents and tell them that I have fallen in love with the most beautiful, kind, compassionate, smart girl on the planet, and for some absurd reason she loves me as well. I just...”  
“I know,” Clarke tells her, shifting to look Lexa in the eye, “And I'm not mad or anything, you know that. I'm just so sorry that you have to go through all this, because god knows you don't deserve it. And I hate that your parents are constantly undermining you, criticizing you instead of aknowledging how fucking lucky they are.”  
Lexa moves her head forward, taking Clarke's lower lip between hers. “It's okay,” she breathes into the other girl's mouth, “I can face anything as long as I have you by my side.”  
“Well, then we're all set,” Clarke answers.

In the end it's not a smudge of paint that reveals their secret but, in a totally clique's way, it's Lexa's mother catching them making out when she comes home from work early one day. 

Clarke's hand gets progressively more shaky in hers as the woman's face turns murderous and Lexa thinks that, yeah, this will definitely be an interesting family time evening.


End file.
